


Felicity Smoak, Ultimate Matchmaker, Shipper, And Caitlyn's New BFF

by orphan_account



Category: Arrow - Fandom, The Flash
Genre: Blind Date, M/M, flarrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 23:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5352746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caitlyn and Felicity devise the master plan of getting Barry and Oliver together because, you know, vigilantes in love and what not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Felicity Smoak, Ultimate Matchmaker, Shipper, And Caitlyn's New BFF

**Author's Note:**

> GUESS WHOS BACK BACK AGAIN I AM BACK TELL A FRIEND  
> shitty thing I wrote at like 1 AM because I couldn't stop thinking about it. This goes out to my pal MK who loves this ship as much as I do. Sorry for grammar issues or whatever. Proof reading is for chumps.

"Look, Felicity- I appreciate it. You're a great friend, but after Iris, I don't know if I'm... ready to get back out there."  
Felicity stomped her foot like a child. For a moment, Barry actually considered going on one of Felicity's crazy set up dates. When she started begging, saying it's different because Barry actually knew the guy, he looked to Dr. Caitlyn Snow, who was staring at him from behind Felicity with a shit eating grin on her face.   
"Don't look at me like that, Barry – I couldn't help it, Felicity is great at this."  
Barry groaned, pressing both palms against his eyes and pressing down until he saw the lines and stars appear on the back of his eyelids. "God, where's Cisco when you need him?!"  
"Forget Cisco!" Felicity said, using the tips of her fingers to push up her glasses, and then returned to her normal, pensive and insistent state; arms crossed, chin high. "He'll just give you some weird speedster-proof cocktail and get you drunk until you forget about dating. You need a life! Outside of The Flash, you're Barry Allen, a single, curious CSI scientist!" She ended in a huff. Barry glanced back at Caitlyn as she nodded in approval.   
"Fine. Fine. Whatever. Now let me run." He said, motioning behind them to the treadmill they were blocking. Caitlyn shook her head.   
"No. Say you'll go!" She persisted. Barry groaned once more.   
"Fine, I'll go on your blind date."  
And with that, they retreated to the lab, and Barry ran faster than ever. 

***

Barry Allen put way too much time into wondering what would have happened, especially when looking at himself in the mirror.   
What if he wasn't in Central City the night the particle accelerator went off? What if he was still running – running late? What if he didn't screw shit up with Iris, never met Caitlyn or Cisco or Felicity, what if everything was the same? Some good things came out of the lightening. He made friends, but the bad outweighs the good, because whenever he looks at himself in the mirror, he sees The Flash, not Barry Allen. When he does all his work in five minutes, gets ready for his date in ten seconds, that agony, the waiting. He's not what Iris thinks him to be. If Iris ever knew he was The Flash, she would lose all hope in her hero. Her savior. Her goddamn vigilante.  
Needless to say, Barry hates lightening. 

***

There he was. The Starling City Vigilante. The Green Arrow. Oliver Queen, sitting at the table he was supposed to be at.   
Faintly, he could head Felicity and Caitlyn give each other a pat on the back.   
After taking a deep breath, Barry stood at the table and looked down at the man.   
He was well-suited. Better than Barry, who wore khakis, a sweater, vest and a bow tie. Oliver spent time on his appearance, the suit had to have been specifically tailored for him because Barry Allen has never seen something so fitting for a figure. As the man rose, Barry felt as though he was towering over him. Oliver gave a small smile, but it seemed forced. Was he nervous?  
"Barry Allen. What are you doing here?"  
Barry gave him a wide smile and a nervous laugh, reaching up and scratching the back of his neck. "Uh, actually, Felicity and Caitlyn – I think they –"  
"Set us up?"

***

Oliver Queen wasn't one for dating either. But when Caitlyn came up to him and told him about Barry needing a date, he was all ears.   
Truth is, Oliver had eyes for Allen. Not pursuing eyes, but when Allen would stretch a bit after running, locking his fingers together and reaching his arms over his head, Oliver has to admit the glances he takes are not as subtle as hoped for. Barry's shirt would rise as his torso stretched, those sweatpants her always wears were pretty lowriding. That perfect little V that made its way down – not too sharp, not intimidating, but enough to make Oliver nervous. He hadn't really had... sex, to put it bluntly, since before the island. Oliver thought it hard to get close to people, especially intimately, since that got Laurel's sister killed. He didn't really trust anybody anymore. He wasn't even sure he trusted himself.   
Then he sees Barry, with his blue sweater, brown vest and matching khakis, with his dumb, multicolored bow tie and Oliver feels something he hasn't felt for a long time.  
Trust issues disengaged. 

***

"So, um, Barry... Can I call you that?" Oliver asked. Barry thought it was funny, so he let out a laugh.   
"We're on a date, Ollie," he said, taking a sip of his water. He didn't bother with alcohols anymore. Only during times he wants to look fancy (Barry starts thinking about how he used to pour grape juice in Joe's wine glasses and act fancy with Iris: the thought made him sad). "You can call me whatever you want."  
Oliver seemed slightly relieved, and for a moment, Barry thought he saw an actual smile. "Okay, Barry then. Um, Caitlyn tells me you haven't been... the happiest."  
Barry smiled. He was used to lying about his feelings. Thank god he got the hang of it finally. "Ah. Just a little distant. Being a normal CSI scientist to a speedy fast vigilante? Most people would spread that out for more than one day."  
"Barry, you were in a coma for nine months. I... Everyone thought you were gone."  
"It felt like a day for me, Oliver," he said. "Why are you bringing this up?"  
Oliver's face sunk, like he had done something bad; you could smell the guilt. Poor guy looked like a kicked puppy. "Just... You look so happy. So much stuff... so much bad people. You don't let it affect your spirit. Its not a bad thing... I'm just jealous, sort of. You are lucky. You're a wonderful guy, and you always use every second you get to make other people happy. It feels like I'm doing the opposite, Barry. I feel like a walking travesty."

***

Let's get this clear. Barry can run fast. One time, he caused a sonic boom. He ran so fast he even manipulated the space time continuum. But nothing happened faster than this.   
Before Barry knew it, they were at Queen's hotel room, and he was threatening to fall on his back.   
Oliver had one hand wrapped around a whiskey bottle, and the other hand around Barry's throat. He wasn't squeezing. It was almost intimate, romantic, like Oliver had Barry's life in his hands, but instead of throwing it away, he simply brought pleasure amongst the boy. They broke a kiss so Barry could slip off his shirt, and Oliver drank from the bottle. Watching the mans lips purse around it, intoxicated liquid sliding down his neck with some sweat sliding down his chest went straight to Barry's crotch. And then he saw the scars on his chest. And then he stopped, planting a kiss along each one.   
Oliver hummed with pleasure, and then saw the look in Barry's eyes. Worry. Fear. He stopped and set the bottle down on the end table, cupping his cheeks. "Barry, I'm fine."  
The boy stuttered for words. "You know what fine stands for? Freaked out, insecure, neurotic, emotional–"  
"Barry."  
"How did you get them?" He insisted, blinking up at the man. His eyes were glossy with intoxication, hunger and worry and Oliver wanted to throw himself in jail for fucking under the influence.   
Nonetheless, Oliver replied. "I don't want to talk about it," he huffed. "I'm fine, Barry. I'm okay. I'm perfect."  
"Are you sure?" His eyes glimmered, and Oliver never felt so sure about anything in his life. Slowly, Oliver hunched down, planting a kiss on Barry's forehead.   
And everything was okay.


End file.
